For Sale: Gucci, Prada and Chanel, Never Worn

A Socialite With Too Many Clothes Offers a Consignment Business Rare Entrée to Her Closets; A Farewell to Fendi

By

Christina Binkley

Updated June 18, 2010 12:01 a.m. ET

In high-end consignment shops, it's hard not to wonder at the sight of Gucci suits and Vuitton bags—still bearing their original price tags. Who were these people who sprang for designer duds and then relinquished them without so much as a trial run?

Meet Patricia Whitcraft, a Lexington, Ky.,-based socialite whose closets are full of unworn Chanel frocks. At her Malibu vacation house, shelves hold an array of Manolo Blahnik heels with nary a scuff mark on the soles. Gucci boots: ditto. She stares at a pair of Valentino handbags. "I bought them both the same day and never used them," she says.

A Socialite's Sell-Off Clothes

Ms. Whitcraft's closet. Michal Czerwonka for The Wall Street Journal

Ms. Whitcraft recently decided to shed many of her unworn or barely worn pieces—errors that have nagged at her. She sought out Christos Garkinos, co-owner of Decadestwo, a designer consignment business that includes a shop in Los Angeles, and invited him to the Malibu vacation house she shares with her boyfriend. "I'm not looking for the money," she said of the clothing she planned to sell. "It's just to put it back in circulation."

Mr. Garkinos, a former marketing executive with Virgin Records, thinks of himself as part of the couture life cycle as he spirits unwanted designer clothes out of people's closets. "I'm the fashion undertaker," he says. In his store, he sells the clothes for 50% to 70% of the original retail price. He splits proceeds 50/50 with sellers.

The wealth of clothes he consigns these days is, in part, a hangover from the economic boom, when many women shopped à la "Sex and the City," gobbling up clothes, shoes and accessories. Like many consignment and fashion re-sellers, Mr. Garkinos has watched his business flourish during the economic downturn, as some women sell clothes to raise money—and others search harder for bargains.

It's possible to find items in Decadestwo shops just days after they walked the runway. Generally, these were gifts from design houses to stylists, models or celebrities who immediately resold them. (It's a no-no, but it happens all the time.)

ENLARGE

Mr. Garkinos has a consignment business that includes the Decadestwo store in Los Angeles.
Michal Czerwonka for The Wall Street Journal

In his job, Mr. Garkinos has become accustomed to bearing witness to extreme indulgence. Finding 40 or 50 bags in a woman's closet is all in a day's work. One of his clients buys two identical pairs of each new pair of shoes, in case the first pair breaks or wears out. Others sell clothes to make way for the next season's collection.

But buying a lot of fashion is one thing. Never wearing it is another. Mr. Garkinos estimates that 45% of the clothes he sells still have the tags on or were never worn. The primary reason such clothing was first bought, he says, is consumers' "hunting and gathering" instincts. It's shopping as sport, and in this case, the quarry is a new pair of Louboutins.

Also, many of his clients have made purchases under pressure from salespeople. A good relationship with a salesperson or boutique owner can lead to goodies such as limited-edition items or access to runway shows.

Ms. Whitcraft, an outgoing 46-year-old, cheerfully concedes that salespeople have led her to buy clothes she didn't really want. "I do feel bad if I feel like they're having a bad month," she says. "I'll buy something to kind of help them out."

Otherwise, Ms. Whitcraft shops out of pleasure and to fulfill the demands of a social life that includes Kentucky Derby parties, trips to Paris and even dinner at the White House. As a result, her wardrobe is a blend of formal styles suited to an older woman—such as heavy Chanel suits—and comfy ballet flats and sandals befitting a younger, more casual frame of mind.

Mr. Garkinos arrived at her Malibu home with an assistant and several laundry baskets. The group took in the view from the home's promontory overlooking the Pacific Ocean. After a lunch of salads and a bottle of a 2005 Montrachet, the little group walked upstairs to Ms. Whitcraft's closet, which encompasses two adjoining rooms.

ENLARGE

On a visit to one of Ms. Whitcraft's closets, Mr. Garkinos tried to persuade her to let him sell a Chanel bag in one of his consignment shops. She decided not to let it go, saying, "That's a classic."
Michal Czerwonka for The Wall Street Journal

Mr. Garkinos held up a knee-length Chanel jacket with the label's signature tweed and piping. Tags still on. He pointed out that the coat was too big for Ms. Whitcraft. "Do you ever find that to curry favor with your [sales]people, you buy it?" Mr. Garkinos asked.

"Yes," Ms. Whitcraft replied easily. Later she expressed annoyance that the store hadn't invited her to Chanel's fall runway show in Paris after all of her purchases.

Mr. Garkinos noted that many of her Chanel clothes were from the collections of 2007—a year when she and many consumers around the world splurged. He grabbed a cream-colored knit tunic-sweater from Fendi. "I took the tag off and never wore it," Ms. Whitcraft said. She shrugged on a barely worn Chanel jacket and conceded she could have used more help assembling an outfit at the store. "I needed to buy the dress that goes underneath it," she said.

They made their way to shelves of handbags where Mr. Garkinos tried—unsuccessfully—to talk her out of a barely touched Balenciaga that she insisted she loved. But several Valentino bags landed on the "to go" pile. He reached to the top shoe shelf for a pair of Prada platform heels. "I don't think I ever wore them," said Ms. Whitcraft.

After he finished, Mr. Garkinos asked where the other closets were. "It's not what's in the first closet. It's what's in the fourth closet," he said from long experience. Sure enough, Ms. Whitcraft bustled down the hall to a bedroom closet, where she kept more gowns.

Mr. Garkinos and his assistant left several hours later with arms and laundry baskets laden with Chanel, Valentino, Fendi, Prada, Gucci and Yohji Yamamoto.

The next day, with 52 items from Ms. Whitcraft's closet, Mr. Garkinos began calling customers around the country—selling a half-dozen Chanel items to one client the next day, including the knee-length jacket. This week, the last of the items is on its way to San Francisco, where it will be sold at a Decadestwo pop-up store.

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